Intermission: Perdition
by Nike Femme
Summary: Perdition: the between bar. Will be collection of FMA oneshots with occasional appearances by SK and FFVII. EdxRoy, SephirothxCloud.
1. Intermission: Perdition

I don't own any of the characters below from Full Metal Alchemist, Shaman King or Final Fantasy VII.

Warning: Some mention of shounen-ai below. Nothing explicit, merely affection.

Author's Note:

This is purely for entertainment in-between chapters, and to explain to my readers where I am in my story developments for FMA: _Full Circle_, Shaman King: _Do You Believe In Destiny?_ and to let anyone who's interested know that the next new story I start will probably be for the FFVII fandom. It helps if you're familiar with the various fandoms, but I hope that this oneshot amuses even if not. The concept of a place where characters can go to rest and relax between chapters/stories is common enough that every fanfic writer turns his or her hand to it at some point, I believe. So without further ado, here's my take on it! Do let me know what you think via a review, especially if you've read any of my stories. Thanks muchly – NF.

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**Intermission: Perdition**

The blonde man glanced up at the sign over the warmly lit entrance to the bar. Yep, this was the place Roy had suggested. Flipping open his pocket-watch, he glanced at the time. He was a good half-hour early. Oh well. Might as well get a drink while waiting. Shoving his watch back into his pocket, he pushed the door open, blinking as his eyes readjusted to the pleasant darkness of the bar, lit by softly glowing stained-glass lamps.

"Can I help you?" a somewhat surly voice asked from the bar. "What's your poison?"

The man frowned. The place seemed nice enough, panelled in glowing oak, trimmed in gleaming brass, clean and rather cosy, but the attitude of the help was somewhat…lacking. Still, Roy swore by it, so he'd give it a shot, literally. "Scotch on the rocks, please." He settled onto a stool, pleasantly surprised at how comfortable it was, and looked around interestedly. The only other patron there was another blonde lounging at the corner of the bar. In contrast to his own neat, wheat-gold ponytail however, the other man had an unruly head of spikes the colour of flax. Glowing aquamarine eyes looked up to meet his own golden gaze, and a small nod was offered and returned before the other returned to contemplating what looked to be a stout of some kind.

"Here." The tumbler was slammed down before him, the amber liquid within nearly slopping over the sides. With a sniff, the bartender thrust a cocktail napkin at him, then turned away and began polishing the glasses behind the counter with a little too much vigour. The man narrowed his eyes at the hostile back and wondered if alchemy worked in Perdition.

"Don't mind Max, he's just a little miffed with blondes at the moment." A soft, husky tenor, almost diffident, and yet with a core of steel running through it. The man looked up. His fellow customer shrugged. "Got turned down just a few minutes before you walked in."

"Oh. Bad luck."

"Well, it was a particularly uninspired line."

He raised an eyebrow. "You heard it?"

A wry smile. "I did, since it was addressed to me."

"Oh. Dare I ask?"

"I believe it went something like, 'I'll show you my sword if you show me yours.'"

"No way."

"Oh yes. Poor Max, he really does need to get out more."

"What did you do?"

Impossibly blue eyes crinkled almost imperceptibly at the corners. "I showed him my sword." And faster than the eye could see, the tousled-headed blonde had whipped out a massive sword and laid it on the counter between them. Looking closely, the pony-tailed man could see that it was made up of several blades that could evidently be taken apart if necessary and used separately.

"That's big. Nice."

"Thanks – never leave home without it. It's really for Max's own good, anyway."

"How so?"

"Jealous lover," was the simple reply. "And if you think this sword is large, you should see his. But he does know how to use it. Prevention is much better than the cure, in this case – and I'm not sure I'd be able to cure Max once Seph was through with him anyway."

"Know what you mean. Roy's much the same way. Only he'd torch them – Flame Alchemist, you know."

"Ah. Yes, Seph's good with Fire too, if he has the right materia on him. Maybe we could introduce them to each other sometime, they might like to compare notes."

The man thought about that. "That could be interesting."

The flaxen-headed man sheathed his sword and a companionable silence fell between them again as they sipped their drinks.

"So…mind if I ask your name?" the pony-tailed man said finally. "I'm Edward Elric, by the way. The Fullmetal Alchemist."

"Cloud Strife," replied the other, picking up his drink and moving to a stool by Ed. "You don't mind, do you? I wouldn't mind a bit of company until Seph shows up." He stuck out his hand.

"Sure, I'm waiting for Roy myself," offered Ed, taking the proffered hand. "Another round?"

Max set down their drinks with a glower and flounced off. Cloud sighed. "I feel bad."

"Eh, he's a big boy," shrugged Ed. "If you're going to put the moves on someone, you should know how to handle the heat."

"True," Cloud nodded thoughtfully. "I'm not very experienced in this sort of thing though."

"Neither am I," Ed admitted. "Only ever been in love for real one time, and don't intend on falling out of it anytime soon."

"Me too," murmured his companion. "Besides, I've got lots to make up for."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I sort of…killed Seph. Three times. Only wound up hurting myself more each time though. This time around it's going to be different." Haunted blue eyes glowed with determination. "I love him. I'm not going to let Jenova get to him."

Ed frowned. "Wow. I've threatened to kill Roy before, but never for real. That's got to suck. Sorry about that."

Cloud smiled tightly. "Yeah. Me too. I'm hoping Nike Femme figures something out though."

"She will. She's a sucker for happy endings, even if she does put you through hell to get you there." Ed waved at the lettering above the door he had entered by. "Why else do you think she named her _between_ _bar_ Perdition? You go to hell and then she gets you out of it."

"I had been wondering about that. Good to know." A pause. "So, why are you here?"

"Waiting for Roy to pull himself together." Ed made a small sound of amusement. "I kind of let it slip to the press at his inauguration that we were together. Not that they didn't already suspect it, but a public admission of love is kind of official. He's feeling a little overwhelmed. I figured I'd take him out, buy him a drink, calm him down, and then we can get back to Chapter 36." His tawny eyes narrowed. "Soon, I hope – I'm in the middle of taking his bastard of a father down a peg. No offence – I'm actually enjoying the company - but…you know."

"None taken. Besides, I hope so too. Once she's done with you, she can get started on me." Cloud stared moodily into his drink. "I miss Seph. He promised he'd come by as soon as he was done with his last meeting, but ShinRa meetings have a tendency to run over in a major way. It's Rufus's fault, he likes to hear himself talk."

"What does he do?" asked Ed curiously. "Seph, I mean. I've heard of ShinRa."

Cloud laughed at that, his melancholic mien shedding years in an instant. "Ifrit, don't let him hear you call him that. His name is Sephiroth. Sorry – I just call him Seph because…well, because." He blushed as Ed shot him a knowing look. "Anyway…he's _the_ General of SOLDIER, ShinRa's private army."

"Birds of a feather," grinned Ed. "Roy's a general too, although he's referred to as Fuhrer now. We really should introduce them, they'd have plenty in common, sounds like."

"Oh, the inauguration, right!" Cloud smiled. He really did look younger when he wasn't brooding. "Give him my congratulations."

"You can give them to him yourself, he should be here any minute," Ed suggested. "Hey, does this place serve food too? Maybe the four of us could have dinner, if we don't get called to our stories. Any idea what yours is going to be called yet? Mine's _Full Circle_."

"Nope," sighed Cloud. "She doesn't name them until she starts. Rumour has it she's toying with the title _Brave New World_, but it's really still up in the air."

The bell hanging over the door tinkled, and the two blondes turned expectantly towards the entrance. The new patron was unknown to Ed, however. He appeared to be of Xing blood, with long, dark hair. He also appeared to be much too young to be in Perdition.

"Hao! Or is it Yoh?" asked Cloud cheerfully. Apparently the two were acquainted. "Pull up a stool. This is Edward Elric."

The teenager smiled and stuck a hand out at Ed, who took it, surprised at the strength of his grip. Another swordsman, perhaps? "Pleased to meet you. You can call me Yoh. Family name is Asakura." His voice was young, but with a cool weight to it that spoke of a maturity beyond his years.

"Yoh and Hao are twins. Well, sort of – they're really the same person, just in two bodies. Or they were, until Nike got started on them," Cloud explained, slapping Yoh's hand away as he reached for Cloud's glass. "You're underage, kid."

Yoh rolled his eyes. "You know perfectly well my soul's well over a thousand years old, Cloud. Just because I'm using Yoh's name and body at the moment…."

"Yeah, well, your body's what I'm worried about," Cloud shot back. "But you can have a Shirley Temple if you want."

The teenager muttered something uncomplimentary, but nodded at Max, who trudged off to mix the drink after casting Cloud another reproachful look. The man dropped his head onto the bar. "Nike had better call me to a story soon or I'm going to tell Seph on Max just so he'll stop _looking_ at me like that."

"Not before she calls me, she's not," Yoh said sharply, his cool façade slipping for a moment. "I've been hanging about for _months_ now, thanks to some…hey, wait a minute. You're the Fullmetal Alchemist?"

Ed nodded.

"_Kisama_!" snarled Yoh. "You're the reason I got put on hold!"

"Language, Yoh! Or is that you, Hao?" said Cloud automatically. "You know, as much as I like the Tao kid – his hair's just as weird as mine – I don't think Anna would approve of you picking up swear words from him."

"You wouldn't tell on me," scoffed Yoh/Hao, although he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking around furtively as if expecting to see someone appear out of the shadows.

Cloud smirked. "Try me. Tifa never lets Cid swear in front of Marlene and Denzel, and I've picked up on the habit."

"Who's Anna?" asked Ed.

"His fiancée," said Cloud casually. "Quite possibly the one person he's afraid of."

"Fiancée?" Ed questioned in disbelief. "He can't be older than fifteen! And I thought people in Risembool married young!"

"It's a betrothal thing," sighed Yoh sheepishly. "My grandparents' idea. It's weird sometimes though – she's more like a sister to me. I'm kind of young to be thinking about marriage and whatnot, you know?"

"Hao isn't," offered Cloud.

Yoh snorted. "Yes, well, we know where Hao's interests lies at the moment."

Cloud quirked a brow. "Tao Ren?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Yoh grimaced. He took a sip of the brightly coloured Shirley Temple that Max had set down.

Ed shook his head. "Nike's got her work cut out for her, I see."

Hao glared over. Ed was surprised how easy it was for him to tell which personality had the upper hand at any particular instant. "I don't know what you're complaining about, she's been focused on bringing you _Full Circle_ for months now, leaving me high and dry! Me! The Shaman King!"

"Come on, Hao, it's not his fault," Cloud said softly. "And you're not Shaman King yet. Besides, you've been waiting for over a thousand years, a few months delay isn't going to hurt. _Do You Believe In Destiny_? If you do, then there isn't a problem, is there? You'll get there eventually. And it's not like you're trying to get back to the person you love."

Yoh/Hao looked mutinous for a moment, then sighed. "Yeah. You're right. Sorry, Ed."

"It's all right," Ed said awkwardly. "I'm sorry you're having to wait this long. But I really did miss Roy."

Yoh turned a surprisingly sweet smile on him. "I can imagine, if you love him the way Cloud loves Sephiroth. _Nantoka narute_ – everything will work out. Hao just gets a little impatient at times." He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I try to keep him under control, but he's pretty powerful."

Ed smiled ruefully. "I'm the impatient one in my head – Auric actually has to keep a check on me at times."

The trio fell back into a companionable silence. Yoh drained his drink, licked the bottom of the straw, then stood reluctantly. "I should be getting back – I need to train with Amidamaru and start dinner for Anna."

"Is Amidamaru your weapon?" asked Ed.

"Sort of. My guardian spirit. The sword itself is Harusame," explained Yoh. "What type of sword do you use, Ed?"

"I don't," shrugged the blonde. "I'm an alchemist, I transmute whatever's handy. Auric uses _sais_ though."

Yoh grinned cheerfully. "Maybe we should get together sometime and spar – Amidamaru would love to have someone around who's familiar with traditional Japanese weapons."

Ed smiled. "I'd like that."

"Cool. I'll see you around then. Try to hurry up with your story, won't you? Cloud and I want our turns. Bye, Cloud – say hi to Sephiroth for me, and remind him he owes me a training session? I really want to try out Masamune."

Cloud snorted. "That'll be the day. Even _I_ don't get to use it. Go on, git, you brat." But his tone was one of light affection. Yoh laughed and skipped out, passing a tall, dark-haired man in uniform on the way in. They eyed each other for a moment, noting the similar exotic cast to their features, and then Yoh tilted his head towards the counter.

"You must be Roy. Go on - Ed's waiting for you."

And sure enough, Ed's face lit up as Roy stepped into the circle of light cast by the lamps behind the bar. "Hey, bastard. Took you long enough to pull yourself together."

"Don't know what you're complaining about since it was really your fault, _shrimp_," Roy returned, smirking faintly. "Ready to go?"

"What's the rush? Sit and have a drink," Ed smiled. "This is Cloud Strife, a new friend of mine. Nike's probably going to start his story soon."

"Roy Mustang. Pleased to meet you," Roy said politely, shaking Cloud's hand. "I hope you suffer less than we did. Perdition, indeed. Losing Ed to the Gate was…not an experience I'd care to repeat."

"Somehow I doubt I'll be that lucky," Cloud rejoined wryly. "At least you never actually killed Ed."

"Not for want of trying, he'll tell you," Roy murmured, and received a punch on the arm from his lover for it.

Ed caught a flicker of envy in Cloud's eyes at the easy intimacy between Roy and himself, and instinctively tried to distract the other blonde from it. He didn't know why he felt quite so protective of his new friend – perhaps it was because Cloud reminded him in some ways of Al. Strong, and yet so innocent somehow. "So…when will Sephiroth be getting here? I'd really like to meet him before we have to go."

"He could be a while," Cloud said, forcing a small smile. "You two should go on ahead if you're in a hurry. Perdition will always be here for us to hang out."

"We have a few minutes, don't we, Roy?" Ed asked, allowing a small note of pleading to slip into his voice. He could see that Roy knew exactly what he was doing, but the softness in Roy's eyes said that he understood.

"Of course. Another round, gentlemen?"

Max scrambled eagerly to fetch their drinks, giving Roy a very suggestive wink as he did so. Ed glared. Apparently the man had moved on to brunettes after having failed miserably with blondes. Roy raised an eyebrow in amusement at Ed's scowl, then discreetly snapped his fingers and set Max's sleeve on fire as he attempted to brush his fingers over Roy's. The bartender yelped and whirled as he flailed his arm about in panic.

"Help! Cloud! Someone!"

Cloud watched unmoving, fascinated by the fact that Roy had not required a Fire materia. Ed's mouth twitched, but before he could tell Roy to put out the fire, an icy draft brushed by his cheek and the flames on Max's arm froze solid, then crackled to the ground in a tinkling of ice chips. The trio turned as one to the door, and Ed watched fondly as Cloud's blue eyes brightened. "Seph! Since when have you carried around Ice materia?"

Ed knew he must look silly with his mouth open like that, but even Roy's poker face was showing signs of strain as Cloud lunged for the tall man who had just entered Perdition. Ed kept his hair longer than most men, but Sephiroth was in a league of his own, his silvery locks falling loose almost to his knees. Like the alchemists, he was wearing gloves, but his were of black leather, as was the coat in which he was stowing away a small, glowing orb. Definitely a one-of-a-kind fashion sense. "Nike made me. I rather suspect she saw this coming. I apologize for my lateness, but…Hojo wanted to see me at the last minute."

Cloud's face darkened. "I hate that man."

Sephiroth closed his eyes briefly. "As do I, love. But we are here now, and he is not, so let us not taint the moment with talk of him. And Nike assures me that we will get to dispose of him eventually."

The blonde nodded and tried to smile as he dragged the taller man to the bar. "Seph – these are my new friends. Edward Elric and Roy Mustang – they're a couple too, the one Nike's been working on lately."

Sephiroth inclined his head gracefully in a manner that reminded Ed unnervingly of Roy. "A pleasure. Have you been forewarning Cloud of the…trials and tribulations that lie ahead of us at her hand?" His voice was deep and resonant even when modulated, but there was the barest hint of a weary pain underlying the strong timbre, and Cloud was looking at him with concern.

Ed opened his mouth to reply, but was surprised into silence as Roy took his hand. "Indeed. Every couple has a different path to walk, and I cannot pretend to know what pain you will have to endure. But _we_ also wanted to tell you…that it's all worth it in the end. To be together. Just hang in there."

Sephiroth's unnervingly green gaze bored into Roy's midnight blue stare for a long moment, as Cloud leaned into his shoulder and Ed squeezed Roy's hand. Then the ShinRa General smiled very faintly, the barest curve of his lips. "I know it. And I would go through much worse for Cloud."

"As I would for Ed," Roy said softly. The foursome stood in reverent silence for a moment. Then Ed cocked his head abruptly.

"I think I hear Nike calling, Roy." The Flame Alchemist nodded.

"I know – I have my father to deal with anyhow, no sense in putting it off."

Cloud sighed. "I guess you'll be taking a rain-check on dinner then."

Ed nodded ruefully. "It was great meeting you though. We'll definitely have to do this again sometime."

"I'm looking forward to that," Cloud grinned.

Sephiroth merely nodded his agreement. A man of few words, Ed decided. Or perhaps he was just shy around people he didn't know. But that would be terribly at odds with the aura of power and confidence he projected otherwise. He'd have to talk to Roy about that, get his impressions – Roy was good at sussing out that sort of thing. They shook hands all around and then Roy and Ed headed for the door. Ed looked back at the threshold and smiled at the sight of Max cowering before Sephiroth, who was doing nothing more threatening than resting what appeared to be a very long sword on the counter. When he turned back to Roy, the Flame Alchemist was regarding him with a teasing smile.

"Should I be jealous of Cloud or Sephiroth? Or both?" he asked lightly.

"If you haven't figured out who it is I'm in love with by now, bastard," grumped Ed, "maybe I really should take up with those two."

Roy laughed, and leaned down to plant a kiss on Ed's lips. "Come now, we have an argument to finish – and then someone owes me a dance."

They disappeared into the night.


	2. Perdition: Reunion

I don't own any of the characters from Full Metal Alchemist. Love the idea of Roy and Ed.

Warning: Some mention of shounen-ai below. Nothing explicit, merely affection.

Author's Note:

Yes, it looks like Perdition is going to become a collection of drabbles/one-shots to keep me amused. But fear not, I'm halfway through a SK chapter and have the FFVII arc worked out, so those should make an appearance soon enough!

A particularly good Pinot Noir (or Spätburgunder, as it is known in Germany a.k.a. Amestris) during a rewatching of the FMA Movie _Conqueror of Shamballa_ inspired this. Not as comedic as the last chapter because I was in a meditative, mellow mood. In vino veritas!

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_**PERDITION: REUNION**_

_To everything there is a season,  
a time for every purpose under the sun.  
A time to be born and a time to die;  
a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted;  
a time to kill and a time to heal ...  
a time to weep and a time to laugh;  
a time to mourn and a time to dance ...  
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;  
a time to lose and a time to seek;  
a time to rend and a time to sew;  
a time to keep silent and a time to speak;  
a time to love and a time to hate;  
a time for war and a time for peace._

_ - Ecclesiastes 3:1-8_

He hadn't been expecting very much when the bartender set the glass down before him, obligingly showing him the bottle before pouring. His brief glimpse of the label indicated that the wine was of the Spätburgunder varietal, Rheingau region, but by a producer he was unfamiliar with, and not a particularly remarkable year, age notwithstanding, if his shaky knowledge of wines was anything to go on. The wine was an inky red in his glass, its deep color lending it a weight he doubted it possessed, but he dutifully swirled, sniffed and sipped.

Unfortunately, he was right. An unremarkable wine. The dark-haired man shrugged wryly and glanced around the bar. It was cozy enough, warm wood paneling on the walls and bright polished gold trim, a cheery blaze crackling in the fireplace. He gazed at the fire with loathing, hating the memories it brought up. A few other patrons were dotted about the room, most alone like himself and nursing drinks, obviously wishing to be left alone with their thoughts.

He drained his glass.

"Another, sir?" the bartender asked. He thought about that, mind already becoming pleasantly fuzzy. Why not?

The bartender had uncorked the bottle and poured him another glass almost before he opened his mouth. An exceedingly efficient sort of chap. He took a closer look at him. Grey eyes in an oddly unremarkable face of indeterminate age. Strangely familiar, and yet he had never met him before, had he?

"You're new here, aren't you?"

"Yes," nodded the bartender as he wiped down the counter with a swiftness that spoke of years of experience. A close-lipped one.

"What happened to the previous guy?" For some reason, the fleeting image of setting the man's sleeve on fire went through Roy's mind, even though he was certain he'd never done that. Couldn't do that now, anyway, he thought bitterly. The man's name had been Max, hadn't it?

"It's really not my place to say, sir," was the polite reply. "May I get you something else?"

"A name, perhaps?"

"Certainly, sir. You are Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist."

He snorted derisively. "That title means little these days. No, I was asking your name?"

"Ah. The name is Quinn, sir. Harley Quinn," and for an instant the faceted glass the bartender was polishing between long, nervous fingers must have caught the light, because a prismatic spectrum of colors flashed for a moment against his white sleeve, making it look as though he were dressed in a patchwork rainbow. And then he set the glass down with its brethren, and the moment was lost, but Roy couldn't quite get the image out of his mind.

"Well, Quinn. Here's to you," and he raised his glass. "May you last longer than the last."

"Change is sometimes a good thing, sir."

"And sometimes not." Roy smiled tightly. "What do you do if you don't like a change?" His hand moved to touch his eye-patch as his lips twisted cynically.

Quinn smiled enigmatically. "I believe, sir, that you pick yourself up and walk forward. I'm sure he'd agree, don't you?"

Roy started and looked up, but Quinn was already moving down to the other end of the bar to take an order.

_He_. Quinn couldn't have meant…no, of course not. That was the little voice of desperation talking. But still…he waited until Quinn was done, then caught the man's eye.

"Yes, sir?"

"What you were saying earlier...who were you referring to?"

"Do you often ask questions you already know the answers to, sir?"

Roy's fingers clenched so hard around his wine glass that he was surprised it did not shatter. "How do you know him? Have you seen him?"

Quinn gazed at him steadily with fathomless grey eyes. "This is Perdition, sir, the _between_ bar. And I am its host. I know everyone in every timeline in every story who might conceivably stop by. And everyone does, eventually. Excuse me." He moved off to attend to another patron, leaving Roy alone with his thoughts.

The door swung open behind the dark-haired man – he could feel the draft against his back as he stared into the darkling depths of his wine, cursing himself for being so foolish as to allow himself to hope. Footsteps entered, paused, continued on, and came to a halt just behind his shoulder. He hunched over, willing the other to go away and leave him to his brooding. At least he could see his face in his memories.

A voice. Young, but with a graceful note of hard-won maturity. "Colonel?"

He growled, resting his forehead against the cool glass in his hand. "Not a Colonel now. Go. Away."

"Colonel…" and there was a catch in the voice now, as if its owner were struggling with some great emotion, "Colonel, it's me. They told me I'd find you here," and a gentle hand dropped lightly onto his shoulder. "Mustang. Look at me. Please."

And now he did turn around, sharp words blooming on his lips ready to lash out at this intruder, words that dissolved like shards of spun sugar on his lips and tongue as a sweetly warm mouth crashed onto on his with a fervor that sent him falling backwards. His arms came up automatically to wrap themselves around the intruder as he tried to regain his balance, his mind reeling as it attempted to catch up to what his body already knew instinctively, his tongue slipping out to trace the other's lower lip delicately, delighting in the moan that the gesture elicited. But he had to know for sure, had to see for himself, and he broke the kiss reluctantly, pushing the other away just enough to see his face.

Midnight met gold. Hearts fluttered and came to life in chests that had been hollow. And time seemed to stop.

A little taller, a little older, a little thinner, but still just as beautiful, Roy thought dazedly. Edward Elric smiled tremulously. "Hey bastard. Missed me?"

Roy opened his mouth, then shut it when no sound emerged. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and tried again. "Why Fullmetal, I didn't even notice your absence – it's easy to overlook someone so small, you know."

He waited for the explosion of sound that would have followed in the past. Waited for Ed to rant at him in that way that simultaneously amused him and irritated him and challenged him and made him feel completely and utterly alive.

But it didn't come. Instead Ed shrugged wanly and looked away, cheeks flushed. "Yeah, well…I missed you." He returned his gaze to Roy's face, reaching up with gentle fingers to trace Roy's eye-patch, a troubled look on his face. "Does it hurt?"

Roy caught his hand gently, "Not anymore. At first, yes…but losing my alchemy hurt more." He squeezed Ed's hand. "I am glad you got your arm back though."

Ed bit his lip awkwardly. "Yeah, well…I'd trade it for your eye in a heartbeat," he muttered. And then quickly, before Roy could say anything, "And I know what you mean. About the alchemy, that is. Where I've been, it doesn't work…they have these other sciences to take its place. But it's not the same. And it hurt so much…and damn it Roy, I missed you so _bloody_ much, you _fucking_ bastard, and I make it all the way back here and all you can do is make _short jokes_?"

Ah, there it was. And the wave of relief that swept over Roy was so overwhelming, the sure and certain knowledge that this really _was_ Ed and not some phantasm of his imagination such a blessing, that he began to laugh. He laughed as he had not for over two years, a cleansing, freeing release of tension that brought tears to his good eye.

His blonde companion was glaring daggers at him, bewildered. "You think this is _funny_? You're even further gone than they said you were! Stop laughing, damn it!"

"Who's 'they'?" Roy managed to gasp out.

"Hawkeye, Havoc – the crew. I ran into them outside, but they wouldn't come in with me. Said it would do you good to see me alone first." Ed glared huffily at Roy, who was still doubled over in hysteria. "Fuck you. I'm going."

The dark-haired man regained control of himself with a mighty effort, feeling his spine straighten as a weight lifted off his shoulders. He reached out and caught Ed's arm, bringing his other hand to Ed's cheek and purring as the younger man nestled unconsciously against him. "Not here, Fullmetal. People are trying to have drinks after all. Later. But we can certainly do this," and he captured Ed's lips again in a possessive, soul-searing kiss of burning flame that made his previous repudiation of his title a lie, and Ed returned the sentiment in full, nipping lightly at his swollen lower lip even as a muffled growl rumbled up in his throat and down Roy's spine, sparking each and every nerve ending along its path.

"Ahem."

They broke apart, flushing. Quinn inclined his head politely.

"It is good to see you feeling more like yourself again, Colonel."

Roy's eyes narrowed. "You haven't used my military rank before. And I'm no longer a Colonel."

Quinn's face was unreadable. "You haven't deserved it before, sir. And in this place, you are exactly who you are meant to be. Another drink?"

"I'll have whatever he's having," Ed volunteered, sliding onto the stool next to Roy's. He seemed far less nonplussed than Roy by Quinn, but then all that he had doubtless seen and done during his two year hiatus probably made a seemingly omniscient bartender in a _between_ bar nothing out of the ordinary.

"It's not that good a wine, Fullmetal…"

"…Edward."

Roy blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Ed met his gaze levelly. "I haven't been under your command for a very long time, _Roy_. And my _name_ is _Edward._"

Understanding. "Edward. Ed."

Quinn set a glass down before Ed and stood back, smiling faintly. The two men picked up their glasses, toasted each other, and brought the wine to their lips.

Ambrosia. Rich, dark, full-bodied, with a hint of fruit that danced on the palate, seductive velvet on the tongue that mingled with the lingering taste of Edward. And nothing like what Roy had been drinking before.

Roy's eye widened in surprise. "This can't be the same wine."

"I assure you it is, sir."

"I like it," Ed offered, licking his flushed, wine-stained lips appreciatively, apparently unaware of the seductive quality of the gesture.

"But…" Roy trailed off, a faint line between his brows.

"Perhaps the wine merely needed to breathe a little, sir," Quinn offered dispassionately. "Sometimes a wine needs time to…fully develop. It needs to be uncorked to free up its complexities. Sometimes perfection…is only a matter of timing. To everything there is a season…"

"A time to be born and a time to die;…a time to kill and a time to heal…a time to weep and a time to laugh;…a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to lose and a time to seek;…a time for war and a time for peace."

Ed's voice was husky, but the cadences of his speech told Roy that he was reciting the lines from memory. The litany stirred something deep inside him, and he had to swallow hard to force the lump in his throat down. "Something you picked up in your travels?"

"Yeah, you could say that. Where I was…they had a book, a religious text…" Ed trailed off, seemingly embarrassed at having to admit that he, the Fullmetal Atheist, had actually deigned to read such stuff. "Anyway, I found this passage, and I liked it. It…it made the waiting easier."

"Indeed," and it was Quinn who spoke. "And as for the wine, sirs…it could also simply be that a wine such as this one is best enjoyed in the company of friends…and lovers."

Roy would remember that last statement long into the future. He would remember it each and every time he opened a bottle of the wine – he would make sure to lay down several cases of it in his cellar. Ed would tease him about being a creature of habit and for laying down what he had previously dismissed as "an unremarkable wine", but Roy would merely smile serenely as he poured out two glasses, one for each of them. They would settle comfortably on the sofa and Roy would recall the day Ed came back to him, recall the sight and smell and taste of his lover in minute detail as Ed blushed and hid his face in Roy's shoulder. And the wine would never disappoint, one sniff evoking the heartbreak and joy and confusion and ecstasy of the reunion.

But at that moment, in a bar named Perdition, Roy Mustang had no way of knowing that. All he could know was that Edward Elric had finally been returned to him after two long years.

"I missed you too." _A time to lose…_

Ed smiled, though there were tears in his eyes. "Care to stop telling me and show me instead?" _A time to seek…_

And Roy rose gracefully and held out his hand. "Come home with me, Edward. Our story begins soon – but I think we have just enough time." _A time to embrace…_

They turned towards the door as one, fingers entwined, but were again stopped by a polite cough from the bar. Quinn motioned to something lying on the bar where they had been sitting, although Roy could have sworn that the objects hadn't _been_ there a moment ago.

"Colonel? I think these belong to you."

The gloves were pristine, stark white against the dark wood of the bar, the only scars marring their surface a set of very familiar arrays. Roy stared at them, fear warring with hope.

"I can't. Not anymore. I…."

A gentle hand covered his protesting lips, and he lifted his eyes almost fearfully to meet Ed's determined gaze. "You couldn't, because it wasn't time. But I'm here with you now. And I know you can."

Slowly, he reached out and picked up the gloves, turning them over in his hands as if to reassure himself of their solidity, their realness, as a man will do when he finds something he thought never to see again. He ran a fingertip lightly over the arrays.

The fire in the hearth abruptly blazed up, though it had been dying to embers not seconds ago.

Ed nuzzled his cheek proudly before kissing him again thoroughly, and this time Quinn did not interrupt, merely watched with a faint smile as the two men walked out. Roy turned on the threshold, realizing that he hadn't paid for his drinks, wanting to thank Quinn for his mysterious aid, but Ed caught his sleeve and shook his head gently.

"This is Perdition, Roy. It's on the house. You know that."

Roy looked back at Quinn, who was once again polishing the glasses behind the bar. The bartender looked up and nodded briefly in acknowledgement, and once again Roy was struck by the way the light reflecting off the mirrors behind the bar bathed Quinn in a multi-colored patchwork of diamonds for an instant. He wondered if Ed had seen it too.

"Did you…who _is_ he?"

"Shh." Ed's eyes were glowing. "No more questions. Just know that this is Perdition, and Harley Quinn is its host." The blonde curled his fingers into Roy's shirtfront and tugged downwards insistently. "Now shut up and kiss me."

Roy obeyed. He hadn't made Colonel by disobeying orders, after all.


	3. Perdition: Heart And Soul

I don't own any of the characters from Full Metal Alchemist. Love the idea of Roy and Ed.

Warning: Some mention of shounen-ai below. Nothing explicit, merely affection.

Author's Note:

And FFVII is off to a start with _Past Tense; Future Imperfect_; SK is almost ready to be updated, but Roy and Ed won't leave the playground of my mind! You know that simple little piano duet everyone knows? Bet you didn't know it actually has lyrics to it…and if you can find a lovely, mellow, jazzy version of it to listen to (Dean Martin or Betty Carter come to mind), you'll know why it's endured this long. All lyrics/song credit to Frank Loesser/Hoagy Carmichael (1936).

* * *

_**PERDITION: HEART AND SOUL**_

Roy Mustang blinked as his eyes adjusted to the relative dimness of the bar. It was relatively empty, it being a weekday night and all, and really quite late, but he wasn't here for the company. Rather, he was looking for a couple of wayward subordinates – or to be more precise, _a_ wayward subordinate and his rather larger little brother. The Elrics had vanished from their dorm shortly before lights-out without informing anyone of their whereabouts, and Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye had been _quite_ insistent that the Colonel go find them. And being the _altruistic_ person that he was, he had naturally agreed.

Besides, Hawkeye's gun brooked no disagreements.

He didn't know why he was looking for the two children here, but Hughes had suggested it – something about having seen Fullmetal there before, although why the young alchemist had been in a bar when he wasn't even of drinking age yet…

"May I get you something sir?" The bartender came forward out of the shadows. An unremarkable face, almost distinguished in its ordinariness, save for the pair of silver-grey eyes that sized him up in a shrewd glance.

"No, thank you," the Flame Alchemist replied politely. "I'm actually looking for a couple of…well, one of them's a State Alchemist, rather short, blonde, really quite young…the other's wearing a suit of amour."

"Ah. You must mean Edward and Alphonse," The bartender regarded him judiciously for a moment, then inclined his head. "Over there."

Roy looked in the direction the man was indicating. Sure enough, the Elrics were seated side by side on a narrow bench, backs to him, apparently focused on something in front of them. He nodded his thanks and began to make his way over to them as he worked on a snide insult involving small crustaceans, lack of sleep and its correlation with stunted growth, and perhaps something about a bean and a bottle, when his train of thought was interrupted by a couple of broken piano notes.

"Um, okay, let's try that again." Edward's voice.

"Are you sure about this, brother?" That had to be Alphonse. "I mean, even without the leather gloves, I'm still pretty clumsy, and the automail…"

"It'll be _fine_, Al. You just pick out the bass with your right hand, okay? I'll handle the rest of it. I know it's usually the other way around, but we've only got one real hand between us, and that middle bit's the trickiest. I think I can manage the melody even with the automail."

"Okay," the suit of amour assented obediently.

"All right, here we go again. One, two…" and hesitantly, but with ever increasing facility, the duo began to pick out a song on the battered upright piano that stood in the corner, Al tapping with one massive finger a repetitive bass line as Ed concentrated on the other two parts, eyebrows knitted together in concentration.

Roy's brows rose into his hairline. A rather old song, to be sure, but well loved, and the brothers were managing quite well between the two of them. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he began to softly hum the melody, and then, suddenly daring, to sing along

_Heart and soul, I fell in love with you,  
Lost control, the way a fool would do,  
Gladly...  
Because you held me tight,  
And stole a kiss in the night…_

The piano faltered as the two turned to seek the source of the singing. Ed's eyes flashed unreadably as he abruptly dropped his hands from the keyboard, although he wouldn't meet Roy's eyes.

"Colonel Mustang." It was Al who stepped into the breach with unfailing courtesy. "I…we didn't know you frequented Perdition too."

"I don't," Roy said kindly. Al had a way of bringing out the parent in people, unlike Ed. "But I came to look for you. When you weren't there at lights-out, Lieutenant Hawkeye became…concerned."

"Oh," and if a suit of armor could blush, Roy had no doubt that Alphonse would have been bright red. "I'm sorry. We didn't think about that. But we were feeling homesick and…"

"Al."

"Brother, he's just asking…"

Ed stood up, effectively ending that argument. "Colonel. It's my fault. I'll take Al back now."

"That's all right, Fullmetal," Roy found himself saying. "I have a little time. Why don't the two of you finish the piece? You were playing quite well – I'm impressed. I had no idea you could play."

The young blonde flushed, apparently mistaking Roy's genuine interest for condescension. "I already apologized, you jerk, there's no need to make fun of us!"

Roy sighed. He was too tired for this. "Edward, I wasn't insulting you," and a part of him noted with curiosity his use of the boy's first name, and the odd reaction it was engendering in the Fullmetal Alchemist. "I meant what I said. Who taught you to play?"

Ed seemed to have been stricken dumb, so Al took it upon himself to reply. "Mama did. She and papa used to play it together…and then when he left, she taught us." The massive helm turned slightly to regard its brother wistfully. "We were…we were missing her earlier, and Brother thought of coming here and asking Mr. Quinn if we could use the piano…"

"Mr. Quinn?"

"The host here," Al said simply. "The bartender. His name is Harley Quinn." Roy turned reflexively to look for the man, and his eyes must have been tired and playing tricks on him, because spots danced before them for a moment, making the man look as though he were dressed in a patchwork of brightly colored diamonds. He reached up and rubbed his eyes, and when he took his hand away, the effect was gone, though he couldn't seem to get the fleeting image out of his mind.

"Anyway, he lets us use the piano most times, so he said it was okay tonight too." Al's hands were twisting themselves nervously in his lap. "Are you mad? I'm sorry we didn't tell anyone where we were going, but Brother didn't want anyone else knowing about it."

"No, Al, I'm not mad," Roy assured the boy. "And I won't tell anyone about it if you don't want me to."

"Thank you," said the suit of amour softly. "And Brother's grateful too, I can tell. He's really very good, you know. Even with the automail."

Roy turned a curious gaze on the strangely silent blonde, who looked up and met his gaze for a fleeting second before dropping his eyes to his feet again, hands clenched by his sides, jaw set as if determined not to allow any words to escape. For some reason, this left the Flame Alchemist feeling oddly bereft.

"Well. Are you done or would you like to finish the piece first?" Roy asked finally.

Ed started. "I…whatever Al wants." The color was high in his cheeks, and not for the first time, Roy had to admit that the boy was growing up to be a very attractive young man, with the kind of looks that induced smiles and heart-palpitations in others. Or at least, they would if you didn't know about the irascible personality that came with them. Therefore, Roy thought firmly, since he was quite aware of Ed's shortcomings in the personality department, what he was feeling in chest was undoubtedly _not_ heart palpitations but heartburn. Likely from the meatloaf he'd had in the mess hall earlier. Right? Right.

"Let's see if we can get through the whole thing, Brother," Al said timidly. "Besides, the Colonel's singing was very nice. Maybe if you asked him to, he'd sing the whole thing with us. Like mama used to."

Roy stifled a snort at the thought of being mistaken for anyone's mother. How on earth had he wound up commanding _children_?

The small blonde stood there irresolute, then sighed and seemed to abruptly make up his mind. "All right, Al. The things I do for you…" but the curve of his lips softened the harshness of his words. "Um…Colonel? Would you…" he swallowed hard, then tried again, "would you do us a favor and sing for us? Please?"

"With a request like that, how could I refuse?" he purred, opting to bite back any snide remarks for Al's sake. Ed looked relieved – likely at having escaped the sharp side of Roy's tongue – and promptly plopped himself back down next to his brother. As Roy stepped forward to lean against the battered upright piano, he glanced over at the clock over the bar, and inadvertently caught the eye of the bartender – Quinn, was it? The man appeared to be smiling faintly at the picture the three presented clustered around the piano, but there was nothing malicious in his face, merely an odd sort of satisfaction. And then the familiar notes of the lead-in sounded, and Roy forgot about Quinn as he crossed his fingers and hoped that he still remembered all the lyrics to the song.

_Heart and soul, I begged to be adored,  
Lost control, and tumbled overboard,  
Gladly...  
That magic night we kissed,  
There in the moon mist._

Roy walked up the silvery hillock to where Ed stood silhouetted against the harvest moon. Strange how the satellite always seemed so much larger in the country, casting a half-light that was actually quite bright, against which Ed's golden head gleamed, his braid blowing in the night breeze. Despite the chill, Ed was coatless and jacketless, his automail glimmering in the moonlight, fists clenched by his sides.

"Fullmetal?"

"Colonel. What are you doing here?" Ed seemed unsurprised by Roy's presence in Risembool. There was a weariness in his voice that Roy didn't like hearing from the normally indomitable Elric. "Doesn't Hawkeye have paperwork waiting for you back in Central?"

"I thought I would come by and find out how Alphonse was doing. Does he really not remember anything from the last five years?"

"Yeah." A short bark of bitter laughter. "Has to do with his body being ten, I guess. He was confused as to who I was at first, but he's sort of accepted that I'm still Ed, just a little bigger than him now."

"Do you intend to tell him anything?"

"No. He shouldn't have to carry the burden of it all. He's only _ten_."

"You were only eleven. And he has a right to know about his life, the bad…and all the good too, don't you think, Fullmetal?"

"He doesn't need to know yet. He's getting his life back, Mustang. I'm not going to muck it up a second time."

Roy sighed. "It is your choice. But I seem to recall a certain alchemist who often resented having information withheld from him." He eyed Ed carefully. "I imagine Al probably feels the same way."

The angles of Ed's face seemed sharper by moonlight, making him look older than his years. No less beautiful though, thought Roy wistfully. "Yeah, well, there was always a good reason for it later, even if you were a bastard about it." He sighed. "It's…it's going to be weird though, not being able to talk to him about stuff. I mean, he's still really smart, just…young. And he won't remember all these things we did…."

"I'm here if you need to talk, Fullmetal." Roy didn't know what had made him say that, but the momentary flash of gratitude that lit Ed's eyes for a moment was all the thanks he needed.

The two men stood in silence for a moment. A cool breeze blew past them, and Ed shivered reflexively. Roy frowned.

"Come here, Fullmetal."

The youth obeyed. "What…." And then his eyes widened as Roy swung his heavy trench coat about Ed's shoulders, wrapping the young alchemist in its folds, still heavy with his body warmth. He stepped back and stuck his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling awkward. Ed's face had gone expressionless, although he did reach up and pull the coat more securely about his shoulders.

"Thanks." Watchful amber eyes scanned Roy's face, and the Flame Alchemist shifted uncomfortably under their unblinking regard. He tried for a careless smile, failed, and instead reached forward and tucked a stray strand of golden hair behind Ed's ear. But instead of falling back to his side, his hand lingered, fingers running gently down the curve of Ed's cheek.

"What does that mean?" It was barely a whisper. Ed's flesh hand came up to trace one of Roy's dark brows in a mirror gesture, warm fingertips trailing down his cheek.

"Stop me if you want," Roy murmured in reply as he closed the distance between them. His mind was screaming all sorts of reasons why this was a bad idea, why he should not be doing this, why he should jump back _right now_, but all his senses were luxuriating in the state of hyperawareness that Ed's presence always seemed to induce in him, and Ed's lips were warm and slightly rough and welcoming under his, his breath indolently heavy like cinnamon and nutmeg, the soft moan in his throat humming against Roy's lips as the younger man arched into the kiss, his body molding against Roy's, soft and pliant and vulnerable. Ed smelled of hot steel and wood and leather, completely and utterly male, and yet the combination was heady and far more intoxicating that any of the perfumes worn by the women Roy had dated up to this point. He broke the kiss with reluctance, needing to breathe, but when he met Ed's eyes, large and luminous and hazy with want, breathing suddenly seemed of secondary importance.

"I didn't say to stop, _Roy_," and Ed's flushed lips curled in a very small smirk. At some point they had wrapped their arms around each other, each enjoying the feel of the other's body flush against his own as they swayed gently in the misty moonlight to an unheard music that played only for them.

"No, you didn't," Roy smirked in reply, and he bent his head to obey. Ed turned his head away teasingly.

"You do realize you've just stolen my first kiss."

"Oh, but _Edward_…if you want it back, you'll have to steal it from me, because I fully intend to steal your second too. And the next, and the next, and all the ones after that," and with that made quite clear, Roy proceeded to do just that.

_Oh! but your lips were thrilling, much too thrilling,  
Never before were mine so strangely willing._

Roy Mustang blinked as his eyes adjusted to the relative dimness of the bar. It was relatively empty, it being a weekday night and all, and really quite late, but he wasn't here for the company. Quinn looked up from the bar and nodded to the young General – and, rumor had it, soon to be Fuhrer.

"He's at the piano, sir."

Ed's ponytail shone in the lambent lamplight, his back to the bar. He was improvising idly at the instrument as Roy approached silently from behind, so focused on what he was doing that it came as a surprise when Roy slid his hands down his lover's arms gently, bending down to steal a kiss from those rosy lips as they parted in surprise.

"Bastard! You gave me a shock," Ed grumbled after he had returned the favor thoroughly. "You're early, too – did Hawkeye have a date?"

"Contrary to popular belief, Fullmetal, I am quite capable of seeing that my work is finished without the supervision of my aide-de-camp," Roy said loftily as he slid onto the piano bench beside Ed. "You know, we have a perfectly good piano at home. An ebony Bechstein grand which _I_ bought for _you_, I seem to recall. So why is it that I always find you playing here?"

Ed shrugged, but a content smile played about his lips as he glanced sidelong through his lashes at his fiancé. The ring on his finger sparkled, catching the light every few seconds as Ed continued to allow his hands to wander across the chipped keyboard.

"Memories. Good ones. I was just thinking the other night that I should bring Al here. We used to come here pretty often, I bet he'd like to see where we first learnt to play together again after coming to Central…what is it, nine years ago now?"

Roy nodded. "We'll do that, then, thought it should be soon. Maybe next week? We'll be busy until the wedding after that. Speaking of which, are you sure about the music for our first dance?"

"Yeah." Ed was carefully not looking at him, Roy noticed. "You know, I haven't played that piece in a while. Wonder if I still remember how?"

"Ah. Well, I have a little time," Roy mused. "Perhaps we could give it a go. Mind you, it's been a while since I last sung it…"

"How long ago was that last time and just who were you serenading?" Ed asked archly, lips pursed in a pout that Roy found absolutely adorable, although he would never admit it – Ed had way too much power over him as it was. "Some blonde floozy you were trying to coax into bed?"

"Blonde, yes, bed, definitely," Roy purred. "But I would _never_ call you a floozy, love." He enjoyed the look of realization spreading over Ed's face along with a fetching flush. "You're mine and mine alone, after all. Heart and soul."

"Hmmph." Ed was still pink. "Just as long as you remember that. Think I'll have it engraved on your wedding band." He placed his hands lightly on the ivory keys, and Roy placed his right hand next to Ed's, his left arm wound securely around the blonde's slender waist. "Ready? One…two…"

Songs like this one, Roy thought as he smiled lazily down at his fiancé, were always so much better when you meant every word you were singing.

_But now I see, what one embrace can do,  
Look at me, it's got me loving you,  
Madly...  
That little kiss you stole,  
Held all my heart and soul._


	4. Perdition: Bad Day

I don't own any of the characters from Full Metal Alchemist. Love the idea of Roy and Ed.

Author's Note:

I had a really bad day yesterday, and then I got home and checked my emails and had received a review on one of my fics and…let's just say I was really not in the mood. And the only thing I could think of doing was writing it out of my system. Hence this short and somewhat incoherent ficlet. And perhaps a mini-hiatus from my other stories while I pull myself together. I mean, I would normally try to do something about SK and FFVII this weekend, but sometimes, I think, you have to allow yourself to be weak. And yes, I do know constructive criticism is supposed to be a good thing, but when you're already feeling battered by real life…I think it was Pliny the Elder back in 400 B.C. who wrote, "Criticism comes easier than craftsmanship." While we're supposed to learn from feedback, I implore everyone to bear his words in mind. People posting on have generally devoted a good amount of time and effort to their work. Even when you have something to criticize about it, be kind, and do not cloak negativity in the guise of 'helpful' criticism. For the good karma, if nothing else. Because you just don't know if the other person, the one who put themselves out there, just might have had…a bad day.

For my little sister. Miss you lots.

Lyrics below from the song "Bad Day" by Daniel Powter.

* * *

_**PERDITION: BAD DAY**_

_Where is the moment we needed the most  
You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost  
They tell me your blue skies fade to grey  
They tell me your passion's gone away  
And I don't need no carryin' on_

Even though Alphonse Elric was currently a bodiless soul bound by his brother's blood to a suit of amour, he was incredibly sensitive to the moods of those around him. Whenever he thought about it, he wondered if this ability was something he'd always had, or was something that had developed in recompense for his lack of physical sensitivity. No nerves, no physical sensation, after all. He missed that a good deal, but there were advantages. Like not getting drunk, and ill, and utterly wasted, for instance. He sighed as he eyed his brother, who was hiccupping miserably into a drink, his white-gloved hands wrapped tightly around the glass as though it were an anchor in a storm-tossed sea.

"'nother one."

"Brother, you really shouldn't, you've had enough for one night." What had Colonel Mustang been thinking, to suggest the brothers come here to get some dinner before turning in for the night? So the mess hall had been closed by the time the brothers had returned from their latest mission, but they could have waited for breakfast. He was going to have to give the Colonel a talking to the next time he saw the man, Al promised himself darkly. He was normally very respectful of adults, but seeing as how Mustang was responsible for his brother's current state, in more ways than one….

Red-rimmed eyes glared up unfocusedly. "Al. I've had a really bad day, okay? I don'…don' wanna have to think 'bout anythin' right now. 'cept more beer. Is that what 'm having?" He peered blearily at his glass.

The suit of amour sighed heavily. "Brother, you're really too young to be drinking this much…you're fourteen."

"…nah. They gave me a fuckin' watch thing…pocket watch…" he fumbled clumsily at his waist for it, almost falling off his stool. "Means I'm old enough to kill in 'the service of the state'" he quoted, fingers inscribing exaggerated quotation marks in the air. "So 'm definitely old…old 'nough to kill myself drinkin'…State Alchemists have special privileges, don't you know? Section 1a) Clause 2) Sub-clause iv) Paragraph 7) Part c)," he enunciated with that dispassionate crystal clarity that he was able to summon up at the most peculiar times.

"Brother…"

"Al, please. I jus'…I need…I don't want to feel anymore. Jus' for a little while. Okay?"

_You stand in the line just to hit a new low  
You're faking a smile with the coffee to go  
You tell me your life's been way off line  
You're falling to pieces everytime  
And I don't need no carryin' on_

Alphonse shook his head, the massive helm creaking slightly on steel shoulders, suddenly glad that he had no face to give his technically non-existent feelings away – while he knew Ed hadn't meant anything by it, wasn't even thinking straight at the moment, the irony was just too bitter. One of them didn't want to feel, and the other _couldn't_. "Come on, brother. Please, let's go home? You'll feel better after you get some sleep – you know things always look better in the morning."

"Soon. Later. After this one." Ed waved unsteadily at the bartender, who glided over smoothly. "Gimme another…of…of whatever this is."

"You've had quite enough, sir," the man said softly, and Al cringed, waiting for the explosion of temper he just knew was coming from his brother. And indeed, Ed's chin jerked up and his golden eyes glared, his young face set in a too-old expression that had made men twice his age and size cringe in fear. But the bartender simply stood there and met his furious gaze with his own, pellucid grey eyes completely clear and unafraid. And slowly, Ed seemed to still in a way that Al had never seen before.

"You've had a bad day, it would seem." The bartender's voice was calm and emotionless, yet strangely soothing.

Ed finally looked away, letting out a resigned bark of laughter. "Yeah. Bad day. Real bad."

"Mm." The man picked up a glass and began to polish it, sending miniature rainbow chasing themselves around the room and on the pristine white of his sleeves, not quite looking at the brothers. "Things just falling out of line." A statement, not a question.

"Yeah."

A nod. "Had those sorts of days. Everything just falling to pieces, nothing going right, even the littlest things that you normally wouldn't give any thought to. And then one more little thing comes along and the whole mess just teeters and falls over. And you go with it, lashing out until you're spent and you have nothing left to give."

Al stole a peek at his brother, and noticed that Ed was looking a little less peaky than he had just a few minutes ago. Maybe this was what Ed had needed – the understanding of a person who didn't ask any questions, and didn't press for details, and didn't want anything from him and wouldn't carry on and on. He shifted guiltily, but his brother didn't seem to notice as he blew a long breath out, his bangs fluttering and hiding his eyes. "Yeah."

"And then you wish you could go numb, stop feeling, just make everything stop. Take a moment in between the pieces of your life to just breathe."

"Yeah." Ed's voice was barely audible, his shoulders relaxing and his head drooping over the bar.

The man's voice was lower still, still oddly mesmerizing. "Feeling is part of being human. If you push it away, it only gets worse. But if you let it wash over you – through you – it eventually passes. Everything passes. And in that flow, there is peace."

And then there was silence from Ed, made all the more pointed by the muffled sounds of soft conversation around them. Al wasn't certain what to do about that. He thought the bartender's words made sense, but he wasn't sure if his brother would be receptive to them.

The man moved away, and Ed still hadn't looked up from the knot of wood in the grain of the counter that his gaze appeared to be fixed on, his eyes moving slightly as they traced the intricate whirls. Al cleared his throat slightly. "Brother? Are you…okay?"

_Cause you had a bad day  
You're taking one down  
You sing a sad song just to turn it around_

"Not yet, Al. But I will be," and there was a new certainty in Ed's voice that made Al feel a little more hopeful. "Right now, I feel…I just…" he stopped, struggling for words, frustrated by his inability to articulate the confusion and exhaustion within.

_You say you don't know  
You tell me don't lie  
You work up a smile and you go for a ride_

"It's okay to tell me that you don't know, Brother," Al said softly. "I understand. Just because I can't feel things with my body doesn't mean my heart isn't able to."

Ed's profile was granite. And then he closed his eyes, and very slowly, a single tear slipped out and trickled down his cheek. He didn't say anything else, but Al could tell his brother was grateful. And that made him feel…pretty good.

Huh.

Maybe he wouldn't have that talk with Mustang after all. After all, the man had suggested this place, and so it was kind of his doing that Ed was now feeling better. Sort of. Right? And as Ed finally shook his head and made to stand up, Al turned and saw the back of a blue uniform slipping quietly out of the bar. He didn't need to see the dark hair or keen eyes of midnight blue that looked back one more time at the brothers before leaving to know who it was that had been watching them all evening.

"No charge, sir," the bartender was saying when Al returned his attention to the bar. "This is Perdition: the _between_ bar."

Ed started at the very slight emphasis the bartender had given the word. "What does that mean?"

The man inclined his head gracefully, and Al wondered how it was that the man's face could simultaneously seem so utterly unremarkable and yet so familiar. "It is open as a service, sir. People come here to find those moments in between. To find peace for a fleeting moment…to remember what peace is like."

"Anyone can come here?"

"Yes," and there was almost a smile in the otherwise toneless voice. "But only if they really need it."

_You had a bad day  
You've seen what you like  
And how does it feel for one more time  
You had a bad day_

"And I had a bad day," Ed murmured.

"So it would seem."

The bartender turned away and began polishing glasses again. "I will not say to come back again soon. But come back if you must. I work here most nights. All nights, actually." Again the prismatic colors flickered against his sleeve, making him look as though he were clad in colored diamond silks for an instant.

Ed lifted his chin in that familiar, arrogant tilt, and Al could have wept to see it, because he knew his brother was going to be okay. "I'm going to be fine. But thank you."

"Anytime, sir."

Al decided he should say something too. "That goes for me too. Thank you…" he realized he didn't know the man's name.

A pair of grey eyes flickered over the brothers. "My name is Quinn. Harley Quinn."

"I'm Alphonse Elric. And that's my brother, Edward."

Ed was already headed towards the door. "Come on, Al. Bet the bastard Colonel will have some stupid new mission for us in the morning, and I need some sleep before dealing with that idiot. See ya, Quinn."

Al turned to follow. "Bye, Mr. Quinn!"

"Good night, sirs. Have a good day tomorrow."


End file.
